So how do you know if you are old or not?
Is it when you have a season ticket to the doctors as different bits go wrong or fall off each week?
Is it when a late night is 11pm and you pay the price for the next few days even though you didn't drink?
Is it when your jeans are no longer the comfiest items of clothing in your wardrobe?
Is it when you suddenly realise all the clothes you have bought in the last few months were from Marks and Spencers and not other younger high street brands?
Is it when you become horrified that the trousers you bought from M & S have elasticated waists?
Or is it when you realise you have tried to make a cup of tea in a glass sugar pot and the hot water has broken it?
Or what about when the bread won't fit in the fridge and milk doesn't belong in the oven?
Does it take just one of these to make you old? What if you can relate to 5 or more? What does that make me? Will organising a birthday party with some retro twists really make me feel young and back in the 80's again? Unlikely.
Please no. I'm not ready for knitting, tartan slippers, hot water bottles and horlicks.
Not yet anyway.
Thursday 22 November 2012
Tuesday 20 November 2012
On being ripped off...
How can they be allowed to do this? I thought it was extortion to increase our energy payments to £100 per month. Now they have doubled them - £200 per month. Where do we find this extra money? We had no notification of this happening. No slight increase. Just wham! An extra £1200 a year please.
Shopping has increased. About 2 years ago, packs of ham were about £1.70 in Tesco's. Now they are £2. How? No one is getting a pay rise, unless they are a greedy fat cat *anker. How do they deserve their bonuses? What happens to those lower down the food chain? Teachers, nurses, dustmen? They are the ones that keep the world running on a day to day basis. They make peoples lives, save peoples lives and maintain peoples lives.
Gradually all the average people are being stretched further and further. More and more will soon lose a roof over their head. What will there be for the future generations? No jobs, more dereliction, more crime, more poverty.
Where are we heading? I don't know. I thought we were OK, but after this increase and no pay rise for hubby for the last 3 years who knows? Getting a paid job is looking closer than ever. Am I in a condition to get paid work? I don't know that either. Can I get a job that has the right hours? Unlikely. Can we afford to pay childcare? That I do know and the answer is no. Why should I pay someone full time childcare so I can work full time for the remainder of my salary, maybe £50?
Why is the world so unfair?
Anyone know of a job from 9:30 to 2:30 Mon -Fri term time only?????
Chance would be a fine thing.
Shopping has increased. About 2 years ago, packs of ham were about £1.70 in Tesco's. Now they are £2. How? No one is getting a pay rise, unless they are a greedy fat cat *anker. How do they deserve their bonuses? What happens to those lower down the food chain? Teachers, nurses, dustmen? They are the ones that keep the world running on a day to day basis. They make peoples lives, save peoples lives and maintain peoples lives.
Gradually all the average people are being stretched further and further. More and more will soon lose a roof over their head. What will there be for the future generations? No jobs, more dereliction, more crime, more poverty.
Where are we heading? I don't know. I thought we were OK, but after this increase and no pay rise for hubby for the last 3 years who knows? Getting a paid job is looking closer than ever. Am I in a condition to get paid work? I don't know that either. Can I get a job that has the right hours? Unlikely. Can we afford to pay childcare? That I do know and the answer is no. Why should I pay someone full time childcare so I can work full time for the remainder of my salary, maybe £50?
Why is the world so unfair?
Anyone know of a job from 9:30 to 2:30 Mon -Fri term time only?????
Chance would be a fine thing.
Monday 19 November 2012
Life comes from a seed
The seeds are sown
Deep in the earth
Allowed to rest and
grow
Warmth and water
Love and care
See seeds grow into
flowers
They grow through
spring and into summer
When they bloom
and show their colour
A petal falls
In autumn time
Start of a midlife
crisis?
As the flower wilts
and loses leaves
It heads back in the
ground
To help the growth
of next years seeds
With its goodness and
resolve.
As we enter
Our autumn years
We can sense what is to
come.
As we were born
From just one seed
We return into the
ground.
Wednesday 25 July 2012
The countdown has begun
It is in excess of 80 degrees. I have one outside in the paddling pool and one in the dining room playing CBBC website. They are both bored. Neither will do what the other one wants. When one chooses a TV programme, the other gets upset. Depending on which way round this is, the older one will moan, whine and maybe even cry about it until I tell him to watch in the other room or play something else. If the younger one is losing out, then he will pinch, kick, punch and grab the older one until I step in and physically separate them.
We have had a couple of so called quiet days this week. Partly to relax after finishing school and also to build myself up for taking them out - alone. This quiet week will consist of a visit to the library, visiting Great Grandad, cinema, Pizza Hut, playing in the garden, 2 days of cricket and a sleepover at a friends house. I am finally sitting down for an afternoon -
if only this involved no interruptions. One will want a drink, so I ask the other if he would too. No is the response. Not 10 minutes later I get asked by the other one for a drink. Then it's food, clothes, toys, building a bug hotel, finding a Lego piece...
This morning I went back to school to collect the things left behind by older son on the last day of term. Neither wanted to go, but it was their fault.
The happy pills must be doing some good, because I don't think I would have reached this far into the holiday without them. 42 days to go and what joy will that bring I wonder? And how far will I get before I break?
SLEEPY (already)
Monday 21 May 2012
On plucking up the guts...
I have never been good with medical things. I was never ill as a child and so never went to the doctors. My lasting memory of the doctors as a child is a smelly, old man sitting in a swivel leather chair in a cloud of cigarette smoke. Not the image you would expect to see today.
I stopped going to the dentist for 9 years when I was about 18. It took this long for me to get unbearable toothache. I had one filling and one removed. I thought that was a good trade off for 9 years without the biannual stress. However that's probably not what the dentist thought. Valium was prescribed and nurses were there to hold me down for the injections. I felt physically sick from the trauma of this and have been regularly ever since. However, I still have borderline hysteria before sitting in the chair - the sweats, shakes and tears.
When I was expecting my midwife refused to take my blood. It took my husband to have a day off work and take me to the hospital maternity department. There would be a nurse, midwife and blood specialist there as well as him to hold me down. This was not looking good for a birth plan. Up to 34 weeks everything looked fine. Then my midwife tells me the baby is now breach and that they want to try to turn him for a natural birth. The consultant and 10 onlooking students could not get him to turn so they booked me for a c-section. This was not good. More planned medical things were going to happen. I was shaking and sweating so much when they tried to do the epidural that it took at least 7 attempts to get the needle in.
After they had extended the cut to get my 9lb 5oz baby boys head out they put an extra drip in my ankle while I couldn't feel anything.
My second child was a natural birth and again my midwife skipped some blood tests to reduce the trauma for me and baby.
All of these were medical issues I couldn't escape from. However last week I finally plucked up the courage to contact the doctor about how I feel. I sent a letter in with a friend as I breakdown whenever I try to talk to a doctor. They made the appointment and I was pleasantly surprised. The doctor was fabulous. She was calm and reassuring, understanding and helpful. Two years ago when I went with similar things I was told that it would just go away. Now someone has finally taken me seriously and told me I'm stressed and depressed. It feels such a relief to know there is someone who wants to help. I've never felt like this about the medical profession before. I fear there is worse to come in blood tests and counselling, but the relief is immense.
DOPEY
I stopped going to the dentist for 9 years when I was about 18. It took this long for me to get unbearable toothache. I had one filling and one removed. I thought that was a good trade off for 9 years without the biannual stress. However that's probably not what the dentist thought. Valium was prescribed and nurses were there to hold me down for the injections. I felt physically sick from the trauma of this and have been regularly ever since. However, I still have borderline hysteria before sitting in the chair - the sweats, shakes and tears.
When I was expecting my midwife refused to take my blood. It took my husband to have a day off work and take me to the hospital maternity department. There would be a nurse, midwife and blood specialist there as well as him to hold me down. This was not looking good for a birth plan. Up to 34 weeks everything looked fine. Then my midwife tells me the baby is now breach and that they want to try to turn him for a natural birth. The consultant and 10 onlooking students could not get him to turn so they booked me for a c-section. This was not good. More planned medical things were going to happen. I was shaking and sweating so much when they tried to do the epidural that it took at least 7 attempts to get the needle in.
After they had extended the cut to get my 9lb 5oz baby boys head out they put an extra drip in my ankle while I couldn't feel anything.
My second child was a natural birth and again my midwife skipped some blood tests to reduce the trauma for me and baby.
All of these were medical issues I couldn't escape from. However last week I finally plucked up the courage to contact the doctor about how I feel. I sent a letter in with a friend as I breakdown whenever I try to talk to a doctor. They made the appointment and I was pleasantly surprised. The doctor was fabulous. She was calm and reassuring, understanding and helpful. Two years ago when I went with similar things I was told that it would just go away. Now someone has finally taken me seriously and told me I'm stressed and depressed. It feels such a relief to know there is someone who wants to help. I've never felt like this about the medical profession before. I fear there is worse to come in blood tests and counselling, but the relief is immense.
DOPEY
Wednesday 25 April 2012
On Getting Fit On A Budget
So how could I get fit?
"Go jogging" someone bravely told me. I can't even run for the bus without being out of breath and a wreck until I reach my destination.
"Try a fitness DVD" came another helpful suggestion. My shelves are now overflowing with DVD's that I tried once or twice, some even lasted a whole week before that were relegated to the shelf. Now they just give the dust mites some exercise.
"Come to Zumba with me" another helpful friend suggested. An hour of intense dance and fitness in front of people who know what they are doing and can run for a bus could be the most demotivating thing I could do.
"Get a personal trainer" said a Mum at the boys' swimming class. She happens to be a personal trainer so no ulterior motive there then. Humouring her I asked how much it would cost me. Having paid the non-member rates for the sports club, it would cost me £9 each time I went to the gym there - plus the £35 initial consultation fee with her, then £35 per hour session with her (at least once a week, if not more of course) and then a review session every so often. By now my eye's are seeing £ signs as, I assume, are hers. Where exactly does this money come from to line someone else's pockets for them to watch me sweat and make a fool of myself with weights and a rowing machine?
"Come to weightwatchers with me?" Hmmm. Sounds good until you pay a registration fee, weekly attendance fee at the sessions - and what do you get for this? Someone who can weigh you on the scales and humiliate you in front of everyone else when you have a bad week, a diet sheet and lots of highly motivated people giving you "encouragement". If I wanted humiliation I could go jogging for free.
My bike has been sitting in the garage for nearly 20 years. I got it out last weekend. The tyre's needed pumping up. The tyre's that still have the original manufaturers moulding marks on them because it has been used so much. I even sat on it and rode it round the garden. Is it still functional? How numb does my bum get whilst on it? It seemed ok. Then I thought about where I could ride it. On the roads? Probably not as I wobble too much and have no confidence. On the pavements? Not supposed to do this apparently. Then I thought about the road I live on and the hill that I would have to ride up to get anywhere. Not a pleasant thought. The bike is back in the garage again.
I don't work and so have no income to allocate to such pastimes. All my hobbies involve voluntary work or study. None pay money or provide exercise in anyway. So how can you get fit without spending a fortune on gym fees, weightloss programmes, personal trainers or sports club costs?
I managed to lose weight once before. It was about 13 years ago. I had just started a new job. I was out to impress someone and decided to do a sponsored slim in aid of Cancer Research. I did lose over a stone in a few months. Maybe I need some form of incentive to overcome the psychological and physical barriers in my way. I watched some of the London Marathon last weekend. 35,000 people all running 26 miles. I am in awe of all of them. The dedication to their training, the will power and motivation they must have astound me.
SLEEPY
Thursday 8 March 2012
On How Do I Feel Today?
Today is a bad day. I got my shopping this morning and did a bit of gardening. By lunchtime I'd had enough. It always seems to hit me about then. I sat down and ate my jacket potato. I then didn't want to get up or do anything. My motivation had gone. I was thinking. Always a bad sign when I stop and think. Nothing good ever comes of this.
Today I was thinking about Friday evening. I'm going out with other Mum's for a 40th birthday. That is not a good thought in itself. But why should this make me feel bad other than we're all getting older? I'll tell you why. I cannot go out in the evening without feeling ill.
It started a couple of years ago. I thought the first time that I'd had too much to drink, but it seems that isn't the case now. I then thought it was to do with eating out. But now that doesn't have to be the case either. The last time, I went to the cinema and was nowhere near food or alcohol. On one occasion I had to walk out of a restaurant leaving my husband eating his starter and main course on his own while I sat outside sobbing and feeling very sick.
It starts as a really hot feeling that works its way all over my body. I feel sick in my throat, yet I have never yet been sick. I can go lightheaded and need to sit down. I need water to drink and splash over me. I cannot work out what makes it happen. I have to loosen clothing. So now I wear the baggiest clothes I can to see if that helps. That looks really great when you want to dress up.
It has ruined two of my birthdays now. I haven't been out at New Year since it started. If I go to someones house I am fine. If I go out during the daytime I am fine.
So is it socialising, food, drink, or just going out in general? Is there a pressure on me to do something or be someone that I have only just started to experience? Am I now expecting to be ill and so becoming ill? Thinking about it certainly makes it worse. Or is it just that I am getting old and my body is falling apart?
What to expect next?
DOPEY
Tuesday 6 March 2012
On Good Girls and Bad Men...
My two closest friends have both done this in the past. Sarah went through a Gothic phase in her life when she went into the sixth form at another school. I didn't understand why she did it. We drifted apart but living opposite each other we still knew what we were up to through parental gossip. She started going out with a guy called Dan. From this point on I barely saw her again. She was round his place almost permanently. There would be nothing wrong with this, other than the fact he'd done time, was covered in tattoos and got into trouble on a frequent basis. One evening she came back to her parents place in tears as he was in hospital having been burnt on the arm by a petrol covered torch during a fight. And guess what, she went back to him. Why? Why would you go back into a situation like that? She moved in with him for a while before she left school completely.
A few years later, she moved into a lovely house with a guy called Adam. It was only round the corner from me so I got back in touch and went to visit. Adam seemed a really nice guy. They were happy together. Both had good jobs. Within a few months of catching up with her she was back at her mum's because she had been hospitalised by the violence he inflicted on her. This time she didn't go back to him. He moved his next victim in and she moved on.
The last man I'm aware of her seeing is the father of her two daughters. He always seemed slimy to me. He was a banker in the city, and a "merchant" one too if you ask me. He had to quit his job after getting so caught up in dealing drugs with his city mates and getting severely into debt that she ended up back at her mum's again, but this time with 2 daughters in tow.
She now lives in a council flat and has a good job in a school. Whether there have been any more men recently I don't know, but if there have I bet I can guess what they were like.
My other friend has been out with some really genuine people that she dumped before too long for someone more exciting. One was a drink driving loser who lost his job through being drunk at work. This happened to be the father of her child. They got married and bought a place together about an hour from her friends and family. After 4 years she got bored and started seeing someone else. I can't blame her though. The pub, gambling and his mates were far more of a draw than her and their son.
She moved back up to be near her friends and family. Unfortunately the adulterer moved in too. He was ok, but had previously tried it on with most of us at works do's. I think he was faithful, but yet again was a drinker and gambler with a lot of debt. They eventually moved out of the rented flat and into a place they part bought. Within a few years she was on her own again. He had done a runner to Europe with the cash from his shop and took a week to appear on the radar again.
Since then she has been through the 25 year old, the 56 year old, the married man, the moody, violent ex-marine and the stalker. She is now planning her wedding to someone who actually seems to be a genuine bloke with no baggage and cares for her.
What has made these friends of mine go for such obvious problems. They are both middle children of 3. Did they rebel with middle child syndrome? Were they just bored with their life and wanted excitement? Or were they just really bad judges of character?
DOC
Tuesday 21 February 2012
On Thinking Day
Share this Thinking Day message with all our friends and sisters around the world.
If you’re a Rainbow, Brownie, or Trefoil member
A Ranger, Leader or Guide
We all have made a special promise
From which we do not hide
We’ve said that we will do our best
That means we’ll all try hard
We promised that we’d love our God
From near and from afar
Serving the Queen and our Country
What on earth does that mean?
Maybe looking after our world
Standing up and being seen.
We should be helping other people
In whatever we may do
From your Mum and Dad at home tonight
To your friends at school
What we are, most importantly
Is one great big family
Where everyone is friends with all
Around the world and back to me.
Friendship is important
Let us remember that
Around the world are 10 million more
Of us under the same hat
Let us think of Lord Baden-Powell
Olave and Agnes too
Who created this amazing club
For me and you and you.
HAPPY THINKING DAY.
Thursday 16 February 2012
On Being Another year Older...
Why do we celebrate getting older?What is there to celebrate? Bits of our body stop working or hurt more. Our prescription bill increases. The children wear us out more. We need more sleep. We can't stay out partying to the early hours of the morning anymore. A good night out is now a night in. TV programme, take away if you're lucky and maybe a cuddle on the sofa or if you're really lucky you get a babysitter and you bundle round someone elses house who can't get a babysitter and have your take away with them.
I'm in no rush to go out and spend my birthday money. In fact it has been used to pay for the take away, kids cinema tickets and my Dad's birthday present. It might even stretch to a new battery for the laptop. The trouble is for the first time in as long as I can remember, which obviously isn't far as I'm so old now, my birthday has fallen at the start of half term. Opportunities to shop are limited with 2 boys under 10 at home with me. The word "shop" is mentioned and they go into overdrive, so it really isn't worth the hassle.
Next year will be a challenge. Not only will I turn 40, but I'll need to find a job too. My degree will be completed this October and after 10 years of being a Mum and not working I will have to take the plunge back into the world of work. Will all that change in one go be good for me, or will it just push me over the edge, knowing that the boys are growing up and I am growing old?
We'll find out next year I guess.
SLEEPY
Sunday 12 February 2012
On Making Friends 3...
I get an interview. My first ever interview. It's with a food manufacturing company in their laboratory, checking for bacteria and testing the food before it is passed onto quality control. I was petrified before the interview but something must have gone right as I was offered the job. The boss was horrible and kept disappearing to play squash with another manager. The other lab assistant was someone I had known from school. She had been in the year above, but a friend of my longest standing friend so I knew her a bit. What a relief.
What was the job like? I hated it. You had to test the workers hands for bacteria, but through interpreters. When there was a problem we had to retest to try and pass everything. How long did I last? 3 months. I left. I couldn't bear it. Not the people, even though the manager was obnoxious, I ignored him. It was the work, environment and atmosphere.
So I signed on. Luckily for only 6 weeks. I spent my time visiting shopping centres again and scouring the newspapers. I got another interview. This time in a video shop. It was small with a staff of only 4. I would be part time but it was work. Within a few months I was made full time and given the opportunity to be on the experienced crew training new staff and opening a new flagship store in Lakeside. I enjoyed the work, but couldn't fit in with the team as well as I did in the smaller store.
I missed my friends and got into my head that someone else was taking them from me and taking my job. I could never warm to her. Was I jealous or insecure? Not sure. I did this for 3 months and then moved back to my original store.
I started applying for assistant manager posts. I must have come through the worst of things. I wanted more responsibility, more money and was actually enjoying my job. I was socialising with the rest of the team. I got a promotion to another store and fitted in well. I loved my job. I got married and things were looking great.
Only to find that they started closing the stores down. They were not renewing the leases as they were expiring. Uncertainty crept in again. I didn't want to start again. I was finally happy and wanted the feeling to last forever. I didn't want to have to deal with change again. What was I to do? Where was I to go?
BASHFUL
Thursday 9 February 2012
On snow and its influence on men...
Why does snow turn grown men into 8 year old boys? What is so great about cold, wet, white stuff? I guess when I was younger I enjoyed making snowmen and throwing snowballs, but I can't quite remember when. I now prefer to watch my husband and two sons getting cold and wet and creating strange sculptures out of snow. I hold the camera and wait for those "You've been framed" moments.
Last year my husband was pulling the boys on the sledge down a local hill. We spent ages there. I was cold, bored and taken as many photos as I possibly could of the snow covered trees and landscape. We agreed one last go for each of them and I put the camera away ready to go. Typically, hubby slips onto his behind and slides down the hill behind the sledge and covers himself in mud. The boys fall about laughing and he has to strip layers off before getting in the car to go home. Did I catch it on film? No. I was gutted.
Today, the snowman was built in the front garden, paraded off for all to see. Was this your standard snowman? No. The first attempt grew to above the boys heads. Daddy continued to build. I was summoned to get the step ladder from the garage so that more snow could be added. As the snowman reached the giddy heights of 6 feet it was becoming unstable. Daddy stands on the step ladder to put the head on top. He leans forward and throws the snow on top like a potter throws his clay. Only it wasn't just the snow that went. He follows and lands right on top of the snowman, squashing it to half height and leaving Daddy laying across it's top.
Did I have the camera ready for this one? No. I'd been filming what had been happening during the past half hour and missed the one crucial moment that would surely have won £250.
Did they give up? Of course not. Apparently there is "No such word as can't".
The second attempt saw them use the fallen top half to make the base sturdier to increase the height further. The snowman grew and grew and grew. It reached nearly 9 feet tall with carrot nose and pine cone mouth and eyes. We took the mandatory photos ready to take to school and just as we finish the snowman breaks in half. Its a tragedy but the boys have achieved what they set out to do - the biggest snowman in the road. Both boys are satisfied and want to move onto sledging.
Unfortunately Daddy is not satisfied. The snowman is not standing and the task in hand is not complete. He insists on rebuilding for a third time before sledging. The novelty has worn off for the boys and their input into snowman 3 is minimal. Finally Daddy is satisfied with a 6 foot sturdy snowman that has a chance of lasting until morning.
Who is the child here? The 6 year old, 9 year old or 39 year old? Will he ever grow up? I guess if he hasn't by now he never will.
DOPEY
Biggest Snowman in Welling
Last year my husband was pulling the boys on the sledge down a local hill. We spent ages there. I was cold, bored and taken as many photos as I possibly could of the snow covered trees and landscape. We agreed one last go for each of them and I put the camera away ready to go. Typically, hubby slips onto his behind and slides down the hill behind the sledge and covers himself in mud. The boys fall about laughing and he has to strip layers off before getting in the car to go home. Did I catch it on film? No. I was gutted.
Today, the snowman was built in the front garden, paraded off for all to see. Was this your standard snowman? No. The first attempt grew to above the boys heads. Daddy continued to build. I was summoned to get the step ladder from the garage so that more snow could be added. As the snowman reached the giddy heights of 6 feet it was becoming unstable. Daddy stands on the step ladder to put the head on top. He leans forward and throws the snow on top like a potter throws his clay. Only it wasn't just the snow that went. He follows and lands right on top of the snowman, squashing it to half height and leaving Daddy laying across it's top.
Did I have the camera ready for this one? No. I'd been filming what had been happening during the past half hour and missed the one crucial moment that would surely have won £250.
Did they give up? Of course not. Apparently there is "No such word as can't".
The second attempt saw them use the fallen top half to make the base sturdier to increase the height further. The snowman grew and grew and grew. It reached nearly 9 feet tall with carrot nose and pine cone mouth and eyes. We took the mandatory photos ready to take to school and just as we finish the snowman breaks in half. Its a tragedy but the boys have achieved what they set out to do - the biggest snowman in the road. Both boys are satisfied and want to move onto sledging.
Unfortunately Daddy is not satisfied. The snowman is not standing and the task in hand is not complete. He insists on rebuilding for a third time before sledging. The novelty has worn off for the boys and their input into snowman 3 is minimal. Finally Daddy is satisfied with a 6 foot sturdy snowman that has a chance of lasting until morning.
Who is the child here? The 6 year old, 9 year old or 39 year old? Will he ever grow up? I guess if he hasn't by now he never will.
DOPEY
Biggest Snowman in Welling
Sunday 5 February 2012
On Mathematicians...
My husband works for a bus company compiling timetables and schedules in London. It is a very maths based department involving long formulae and calculations, although not degree level, as well as general arithmetic. His office of 9 people is an all male environment. It is a very intriguing mix of personalities.
There is the boss. He is a womaniser and constantly telling stories of the times he had whilst on the bus stands at the end of routes in his driving days. Jail bait and Two-bagger are frequently mentioned.
The deputy lives miles away and leaves home at 4am to catch the train to the office for about 6am. Why? So he can leave at 3pm and be home by 4ish.
Then there is Mr Negative, The Silent Terrorist, Thingy the MCP, Mr Smelly 1 and Mr Smelly 2, The Manic Depressive and 1930's Geek. They all have one thing in common. They are weird in their own sweet way and all use maths in their work daily.
I've been studying Maths courses with Open University for the last 6 years and met some incredible people. Some students and some lecturers. OK, so it is Maths and whenever anyone asks what I'm studying their faces contort into poses that would challenge any gurning champion. Yet if they met some of the people I have shared rooms with at tutorials then they would be picking their jaw up from the floor. They are either smelly with hair that hasn't ever been washed and their laptop intravenously attached to their chest, or the women in the trousers that are too short and traditional maths teacher jumpers. There are the people who sit, listen and go home, seeming quite normal. Then there are the ones who query everything the lecturer says and delay us from completing the work we should in the time allocated.
If I take anything from any of the 11 courses I'll study for my degree it will be a comment made by one of my lecturers that had absolutely nothing to do with our course.
"All mathematicians feature on the autistic spectrum disorder."
This is so true. I've achieved distinctions in all my level 2 courses and distinctions/grade 2 in my level 3 courses so far. And yes I am including myself in this group. Mathematicians cannot socialise. They prefer their own company. They are perfectionists, as maths is either right or wrong and in life mathematicians have to be right or they aren't satisfied. I have seen enough people involved in maths to wholeheartedly believe this.
So beware, look at dating a mathematician and you know what you're going to get!
DOC
There is the boss. He is a womaniser and constantly telling stories of the times he had whilst on the bus stands at the end of routes in his driving days. Jail bait and Two-bagger are frequently mentioned.
The deputy lives miles away and leaves home at 4am to catch the train to the office for about 6am. Why? So he can leave at 3pm and be home by 4ish.
Then there is Mr Negative, The Silent Terrorist, Thingy the MCP, Mr Smelly 1 and Mr Smelly 2, The Manic Depressive and 1930's Geek. They all have one thing in common. They are weird in their own sweet way and all use maths in their work daily.
I've been studying Maths courses with Open University for the last 6 years and met some incredible people. Some students and some lecturers. OK, so it is Maths and whenever anyone asks what I'm studying their faces contort into poses that would challenge any gurning champion. Yet if they met some of the people I have shared rooms with at tutorials then they would be picking their jaw up from the floor. They are either smelly with hair that hasn't ever been washed and their laptop intravenously attached to their chest, or the women in the trousers that are too short and traditional maths teacher jumpers. There are the people who sit, listen and go home, seeming quite normal. Then there are the ones who query everything the lecturer says and delay us from completing the work we should in the time allocated.
If I take anything from any of the 11 courses I'll study for my degree it will be a comment made by one of my lecturers that had absolutely nothing to do with our course.
"All mathematicians feature on the autistic spectrum disorder."
This is so true. I've achieved distinctions in all my level 2 courses and distinctions/grade 2 in my level 3 courses so far. And yes I am including myself in this group. Mathematicians cannot socialise. They prefer their own company. They are perfectionists, as maths is either right or wrong and in life mathematicians have to be right or they aren't satisfied. I have seen enough people involved in maths to wholeheartedly believe this.
So beware, look at dating a mathematician and you know what you're going to get!
DOC
Sunday 29 January 2012
On Playground Politics...
Why do I dread walking to school in the mornings and evenings? I'm nearly 40 and fear going to school. I don't work there. I'm not related to anyone there. It should be straight forward - walk the children to the playground, watch them go in, go home. So why do I try my utmost to avoid bumping into certain people?
If I see certain Mum's walk past the house on their way to school, I'll wait and follow at a safe distance. If I misjudge it and leave in front of them, I'll march to school so they can't catch up. I've even been known to cross the road when I don't actually need to so I can hide from them. What sane reasoning do I have behind this irrational behaviour?
These Mum's are extremely overprotective of their little boys. And it is only the boy's Mums'. I get on fine with the Mum's of girls. But these boys seem to be wrapped in cotton wool by their parents and when another child "does something" or "says something" to their precious little one, then World War Three starts on the parents. Yet their son never harms anyone or says anything to anyone. He's perfect...
Well that's what they think. I'm not saying that my son is an angel because he's not. He knows right from wrong, but is easily distracted and has a memory smaller than a goldfish. He probably has called other children names in the playground. What boy hasn't thought that "poo poo face" was funny? What playground games don't involve chasing when you are a 6 year old boy? Are these things wrong? Is it something I can deal with when I'm at home or shopping and he's in the school playground?
So why should my son get a punch in the face and I get an earful from a parent because my son called hers a "poo poo face"? I made him apologise to the boy and thought that was it. The other boy refused to apologise. The next day less people are saying hello to me, or so it seems. Paranoia? Maybe.
I then get the "sticky beak of the playground" catch me in the street and tell me that "...she said to her who said to her... that my son did..." Do I need to know fourth hand gossip? If there is something going on with my son that I need to know I expect and hope the school will tell me, not the local parental snitch. She then accused my son of making her son not want to go to school? What is it to do with me if her son is too precious to deal with playground antics, or is a typical boy who doesn't want to go to school? Toughen up. You can't be the nice guy all the time as a parent.
Next thing I hear is that my son has been pushed over and kicked a few times by relatives of the boy who punched him. Nice. This has happened twice now and the boys have confessed to doing it. They had no choice really as they were seen. They got into trouble and that is now my fault too. We seem to have a Mafia style clan at the school. Most of the children involved are cousins. The extra ones are either Rent-a-thug or the playground gossips kids in for the action.
Am I being silly not wanting to come into contact with these Mum's? Or do I just not want any hassle on a 5 minute walk to and from school? Just so long as I'm not being attacked on Facebook like another Mum I heard about I guess that's fine with me. I'm not on Facebook, so guess I'll never know. Probably best I don't.
Have these people got nothing better to do than stand around spreading idle gossip and unfounded rumours about other people and their children? Why don't they teach their kids about how to live life properly and what is expected of them instead of bitching to other Mum's.
And we wonder where our morals and good citizenship in society have gone.
DOC
If I see certain Mum's walk past the house on their way to school, I'll wait and follow at a safe distance. If I misjudge it and leave in front of them, I'll march to school so they can't catch up. I've even been known to cross the road when I don't actually need to so I can hide from them. What sane reasoning do I have behind this irrational behaviour?
These Mum's are extremely overprotective of their little boys. And it is only the boy's Mums'. I get on fine with the Mum's of girls. But these boys seem to be wrapped in cotton wool by their parents and when another child "does something" or "says something" to their precious little one, then World War Three starts on the parents. Yet their son never harms anyone or says anything to anyone. He's perfect...
Well that's what they think. I'm not saying that my son is an angel because he's not. He knows right from wrong, but is easily distracted and has a memory smaller than a goldfish. He probably has called other children names in the playground. What boy hasn't thought that "poo poo face" was funny? What playground games don't involve chasing when you are a 6 year old boy? Are these things wrong? Is it something I can deal with when I'm at home or shopping and he's in the school playground?
So why should my son get a punch in the face and I get an earful from a parent because my son called hers a "poo poo face"? I made him apologise to the boy and thought that was it. The other boy refused to apologise. The next day less people are saying hello to me, or so it seems. Paranoia? Maybe.
I then get the "sticky beak of the playground" catch me in the street and tell me that "...she said to her who said to her... that my son did..." Do I need to know fourth hand gossip? If there is something going on with my son that I need to know I expect and hope the school will tell me, not the local parental snitch. She then accused my son of making her son not want to go to school? What is it to do with me if her son is too precious to deal with playground antics, or is a typical boy who doesn't want to go to school? Toughen up. You can't be the nice guy all the time as a parent.
Next thing I hear is that my son has been pushed over and kicked a few times by relatives of the boy who punched him. Nice. This has happened twice now and the boys have confessed to doing it. They had no choice really as they were seen. They got into trouble and that is now my fault too. We seem to have a Mafia style clan at the school. Most of the children involved are cousins. The extra ones are either Rent-a-thug or the playground gossips kids in for the action.
Am I being silly not wanting to come into contact with these Mum's? Or do I just not want any hassle on a 5 minute walk to and from school? Just so long as I'm not being attacked on Facebook like another Mum I heard about I guess that's fine with me. I'm not on Facebook, so guess I'll never know. Probably best I don't.
Have these people got nothing better to do than stand around spreading idle gossip and unfounded rumours about other people and their children? Why don't they teach their kids about how to live life properly and what is expected of them instead of bitching to other Mum's.
And we wonder where our morals and good citizenship in society have gone.
DOC
Thursday 26 January 2012
On making friends 2...
Oh no. You are 18 and leave school. Some of your friends go to university in a remote part of the country. Some go off to work. As decisive as ever, I head off to college in London and stay living at home. But what does this mean. Yet again I have no friends with me. I have to start all over again.
As I travel to London on the train on the first day, panic sets in. Where am I going? Who will be there? What will they be like? I arrive at the college and find my way to a room filled with lots of new faces to take in. They're all chatting away as if they have known each other for years. Maybe they have. I find a seat. A group of girls start talking to me immediately. Was I comfortable with this? Probably not. I wasn't ready for that kind of interaction. As a lecturer comes in, the room settles as he explains what the day entails.After a very long hour, I head off to pay my grant to the admin team. I am alone again. Lost in a sea of unusual people and strange surroundings.
It is lunchtime and the group of girls from earlier are heading out to explore Leicester Square and what it has to offer. I tag along, feeling uneasy and an outsider. They are all chatting about where they come from and what they want to do. I answer direct questions and listen. That's what I'm good at. I watch people and listen to things around me.
The afternoon brings more of the same. Finding out timetables and where rooms are. Now this I can handle. Sitting in silence and listening. However, my life will change again during this afternoon. My course has been changed and I'm now only doing part of what I want to do. Part has been cut. What do I do? I make a quick exit after we finish to avoid having to talk to the others. I make my way home pondering my options.
Decision made. The next day I go back to college and quit. Was it the easy option? Was it just the change in course that made me give up my college opportunity? Or was it just too daunting to make new friends again? I start looking for work. I had worked in Woolworths at weekends for nearly 4 years and got extra shifts to get myself money. But I needed full time work. This meant applications, interviews, meeting new people and interacting with them.
I hadn't changed since school. Making friends hadn't got easier over those few years. How long will it take until this simple process becomes second nature? Should I have a label? Would I feature somewhere on the autistic spectrum if tested now or back then? Would it have helped me? Who knows?
BASHFUL
As I travel to London on the train on the first day, panic sets in. Where am I going? Who will be there? What will they be like? I arrive at the college and find my way to a room filled with lots of new faces to take in. They're all chatting away as if they have known each other for years. Maybe they have. I find a seat. A group of girls start talking to me immediately. Was I comfortable with this? Probably not. I wasn't ready for that kind of interaction. As a lecturer comes in, the room settles as he explains what the day entails.After a very long hour, I head off to pay my grant to the admin team. I am alone again. Lost in a sea of unusual people and strange surroundings.
It is lunchtime and the group of girls from earlier are heading out to explore Leicester Square and what it has to offer. I tag along, feeling uneasy and an outsider. They are all chatting about where they come from and what they want to do. I answer direct questions and listen. That's what I'm good at. I watch people and listen to things around me.
The afternoon brings more of the same. Finding out timetables and where rooms are. Now this I can handle. Sitting in silence and listening. However, my life will change again during this afternoon. My course has been changed and I'm now only doing part of what I want to do. Part has been cut. What do I do? I make a quick exit after we finish to avoid having to talk to the others. I make my way home pondering my options.
Decision made. The next day I go back to college and quit. Was it the easy option? Was it just the change in course that made me give up my college opportunity? Or was it just too daunting to make new friends again? I start looking for work. I had worked in Woolworths at weekends for nearly 4 years and got extra shifts to get myself money. But I needed full time work. This meant applications, interviews, meeting new people and interacting with them.
I hadn't changed since school. Making friends hadn't got easier over those few years. How long will it take until this simple process becomes second nature? Should I have a label? Would I feature somewhere on the autistic spectrum if tested now or back then? Would it have helped me? Who knows?
BASHFUL
Sunday 22 January 2012
On Parking Permits 2...
After being rejected for her disabled badge at the renewal this January, Mum took the decision to appeal. She decided she had nothing to lose. Another visit to the council department and another assessment later and she has been granted her badge back.
How can someone's ability to continue with their normal day to day life be in the hands of a variety of people? Some saying yes and others saying no. Where is the consistency in the decision making? Who allows people who do physical jobs like loft conversions and carpet cleaning to have disabled badges? Yet people who are unable to walk properly and never ask for benefits or assistance from the council, have to fight so hard to continue to do their weekly shop on their own. Would the council rather pay for a carer to help with the shopping and take her to appointments? They probably would grant this even though they are supposed to be saving money. Are cases looked at as pieces of paper or actual people? It does make you wonder sometimes.
Should it really be so hard for people to keep their independence and dignity? So in 7 weeks time her new badge will be ready!!!
HAPPY
How can someone's ability to continue with their normal day to day life be in the hands of a variety of people? Some saying yes and others saying no. Where is the consistency in the decision making? Who allows people who do physical jobs like loft conversions and carpet cleaning to have disabled badges? Yet people who are unable to walk properly and never ask for benefits or assistance from the council, have to fight so hard to continue to do their weekly shop on their own. Would the council rather pay for a carer to help with the shopping and take her to appointments? They probably would grant this even though they are supposed to be saving money. Are cases looked at as pieces of paper or actual people? It does make you wonder sometimes.
Should it really be so hard for people to keep their independence and dignity? So in 7 weeks time her new badge will be ready!!!
HAPPY
Thursday 19 January 2012
On family members...
So we all have families. We all have extended families. Whether we like them or not is personal preference. And whether we like other peoples really doesn't matter. What does matter is that we care about each and every member of our family in some way or another.
People treat pets as members of the family too. And so they should. They should be loved and looked after as if they were born to you. Personally I wouldn't have furry pets. I'm not an animal lover, but I wouldn't wish harm on any either.
There are however some people who, I feel, need parenting lessons when it comes to animal care.
Would you let your baby poo on the pavement outside someone's house and then proceed to walk away without clearing it up? I would hope not. But there are some who feel it is acceptable to do this with another member of the family, the pet pooch.
I thought dog's were members of the family and so treated with the same care and respect as any other sibling.
Do I really need to play "dodge the poo" on the way to school? I've counted at least 6 different mess piles in the space of 20 houses to the end of my road. Telling the children to "mind the poo" every few steps is not a fun walk to school.
If only I knew who the perpetrators of this disgusting act were. I would personally collect up the poo left behind by their incorrigible act of negligence and leave it outside their house on the pavement.
Take a moment to think of the poor council workers who have to come and clear up the offending matter. Why should they have to? We could save money on our council tax by not employing people to do this. Oh, I forgot, it seems my council doesn't anyway, as some of the piles of mess have been there for weeks turning whiter and flakier by the day.
Do people not care about their surroundings anymore? Do they care so little about their neighbours that they are happy for a member of their family to leave faeces outside their house? Come on. You know who you are. Show some consideration, as most dog owners do, for other people and their noses. Take a pride in your surroundings and respect for those who clear up after you.
SNEEZY
People treat pets as members of the family too. And so they should. They should be loved and looked after as if they were born to you. Personally I wouldn't have furry pets. I'm not an animal lover, but I wouldn't wish harm on any either.
There are however some people who, I feel, need parenting lessons when it comes to animal care.
Would you let your baby poo on the pavement outside someone's house and then proceed to walk away without clearing it up? I would hope not. But there are some who feel it is acceptable to do this with another member of the family, the pet pooch.
I thought dog's were members of the family and so treated with the same care and respect as any other sibling.
Do I really need to play "dodge the poo" on the way to school? I've counted at least 6 different mess piles in the space of 20 houses to the end of my road. Telling the children to "mind the poo" every few steps is not a fun walk to school.
If only I knew who the perpetrators of this disgusting act were. I would personally collect up the poo left behind by their incorrigible act of negligence and leave it outside their house on the pavement.
Take a moment to think of the poor council workers who have to come and clear up the offending matter. Why should they have to? We could save money on our council tax by not employing people to do this. Oh, I forgot, it seems my council doesn't anyway, as some of the piles of mess have been there for weeks turning whiter and flakier by the day.
Do people not care about their surroundings anymore? Do they care so little about their neighbours that they are happy for a member of their family to leave faeces outside their house? Come on. You know who you are. Show some consideration, as most dog owners do, for other people and their noses. Take a pride in your surroundings and respect for those who clear up after you.
SNEEZY
Saturday 14 January 2012
On making friends...
It's 30 years ago. You are at school. You have trouble making friends. You get lonely. You live with it. You get on with your life in your own special way. People pick on you because you are "different"; you are an easy target.
What did anyone do about it? Absolutely nothing. You remained a shy person, not mixing well with new people.
What happens today? Tests are done. You are observed. Your parents worry that you might have x, y or z. Where did the shyness come from? Is it hereditary?
In my case I found making friends one of the hardest things to do. I was far happier with my head in a book or playing on my Atari games console/BBC B/Atari ST/PC as I grew up. Did I want to make friends? No, not really.
I had a couple of very close friends at primary school. I was happy and enjoyed school. I did well and moved onto Grammar School - without my close friends.
Does making new friends get harder as you get older? I say it does. Nearly 20 people from my primary school went with me to secondary school, but none of them were my close friends. They split us amongst the 6 new classes so that we didn't stick together as a group. It was supposed to help us make new friends. Did this help me? No way. By now I am scared. I am slow to get into the new classroom on the first day and find the other 2 girls from primary school had sat together, and I don't blame them. You would think that a Grammar School would be full of like minded individuals who were there for the study and not to become bitches of the century. It seems I was wrong there.
I went through the first 3 years of senior school without a true friend. I was always the third member of a group. And whoever said "three's a crowd" was so damn right. It just doesn't work. In each year I was in a different three. The other two would meet up after school and at weekends and I wouldn't get invited. Why? Was I that freaky? I was called names and laughed at.
Why is it all the bitches are good at sport? I was hopeless at sport and so ridiculed constantly. I was last to be picked for teams. This to me was some form of psychological bullying. They were saying to me that I was useless and they were never going to be friends with me. So there I was guaranteed to be excluded from the "it crowd" for the rest of my school days. Being good at maths or chemistry just wasn't cool.
It was only when we moved into the fourth year - current year 10 - that I finally fell into a friendship that has lasted 25 years and is still going strong. She had been through the same sorts of things at senior school and always been on the outside of a group. She had been persecuted and called names that you would think 14 year olds knew nothing about back then.
I know this is part of growing up, but are children allowed the same naivety that we were 30 years ago? Would it have helped either of us to have been called "autistic" or have "aspergers syndrome"? Probably not.
Does it help now? As a parent, it answers questions, but does it really benefit the child. I hope so. Will it help them make new friends? I doubt it.
BASHFUL
What did anyone do about it? Absolutely nothing. You remained a shy person, not mixing well with new people.
What happens today? Tests are done. You are observed. Your parents worry that you might have x, y or z. Where did the shyness come from? Is it hereditary?
In my case I found making friends one of the hardest things to do. I was far happier with my head in a book or playing on my Atari games console/BBC B/Atari ST/PC as I grew up. Did I want to make friends? No, not really.
I had a couple of very close friends at primary school. I was happy and enjoyed school. I did well and moved onto Grammar School - without my close friends.
Does making new friends get harder as you get older? I say it does. Nearly 20 people from my primary school went with me to secondary school, but none of them were my close friends. They split us amongst the 6 new classes so that we didn't stick together as a group. It was supposed to help us make new friends. Did this help me? No way. By now I am scared. I am slow to get into the new classroom on the first day and find the other 2 girls from primary school had sat together, and I don't blame them. You would think that a Grammar School would be full of like minded individuals who were there for the study and not to become bitches of the century. It seems I was wrong there.
I went through the first 3 years of senior school without a true friend. I was always the third member of a group. And whoever said "three's a crowd" was so damn right. It just doesn't work. In each year I was in a different three. The other two would meet up after school and at weekends and I wouldn't get invited. Why? Was I that freaky? I was called names and laughed at.
Why is it all the bitches are good at sport? I was hopeless at sport and so ridiculed constantly. I was last to be picked for teams. This to me was some form of psychological bullying. They were saying to me that I was useless and they were never going to be friends with me. So there I was guaranteed to be excluded from the "it crowd" for the rest of my school days. Being good at maths or chemistry just wasn't cool.
It was only when we moved into the fourth year - current year 10 - that I finally fell into a friendship that has lasted 25 years and is still going strong. She had been through the same sorts of things at senior school and always been on the outside of a group. She had been persecuted and called names that you would think 14 year olds knew nothing about back then.
I know this is part of growing up, but are children allowed the same naivety that we were 30 years ago? Would it have helped either of us to have been called "autistic" or have "aspergers syndrome"? Probably not.
Does it help now? As a parent, it answers questions, but does it really benefit the child. I hope so. Will it help them make new friends? I doubt it.
BASHFUL
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)